


Missing Her

by Emooly



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Death of Loved One, Depression, Dreaming, F/F, Lesbian Relationships, Suicidal Thoughts, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8441038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emooly/pseuds/Emooly
Summary: Poussey Washington x Brook Soso Oneshot, just wanted to honor my favorite character in all of OITNB. SPOILER ALERT FOR SEASON 4 HONESTLY DON'T KNOW ANYONE WHO HASN'T WATCHED THIS SHIT BUT IF YOU ARE ONE OF THOSE UNFORTUNATE FEW, PLEASE REFRAIN FROM READING THIS FIC UNTIL YOU HAVE FINISHED. Thanks muh darlings





	

Brook was tired. She was tired of crying all the time, and having Poussey permeate her thoughts every single second of every single minute of every single hour of every single day. The clock that hung on the side of her cubicle made an ostentatious tick every 60 seconds, snapping Brook back to reality every time her thoughts wandered too far away from her. She laid on her side in the bottom bunk bed, clutching the paper-thin pillow close to her chest.

The thought of Poussey's back pressing against her made her smile. Poussey was one of the only inmates who was smaller than her, after all. Was.

Brook hugged the pillow a little bit tighter at the thought. She liked being the bigger spoon whenever they cuddled. She liked feeling protective over Poussey, even though she was far stronger than she was… she was a military brat after all, heh. Whenever they lied there on her bed, they would interlock hands, and start talking about anything and everything for the longest time. It was her favorite thing… well, the only thing that she liked about Litchfield, really. Her world was black and white before Poussey even came into the picture… but when she did… it became splattered with all sorts of different colors. Reds whenever they got into those fights over really stupid things, like how when Brook took her jokes a little bit too seriously. Yellows, warm oranges whenever she laughed. She absolutely adored her smile. It started as a small tug at the corner of her lips, and then grew wider and wider, and then filled the entire room. Her laugh lit up fireworks inside of her… it made her want to laugh along with her Blues whenever Poussey would talk about how much she missed her father and wanted so so badly to live in New York City, leaving Litchfield in her past. They spent what felt like eternal, yet simultaneously ephemeral afternoons just exchanging, eliciting, extracting… Poussey's questions would make her remember things she thought she had long forgotten. Like how her mother always scared her. Or how she never really felt like she had a real family. Or how she felt like no one really took her seriously, or thought that her ideas or opinions were valid. How lots of people in her life dismissed her as a woeful, overly dramatic activist when she just wanted to make a change in the world. Poussey's stories would humble her, surprise her, excite her. She would talk about how she fell in love with a girl in Germany, and about how freaking massive her boobs were. Brook would ask Poussey if she thought hers were big enough. Poussey would say they were perfect, and kiss her on the forehead, and then continue her stories. That would always make her blush. They would talk and talk for hours and hours. Words.

But she's gone now. And there's nothing that she could do about it.

Brook buried her face into the soft fabric of the pillow, sobbing quietly like she always does in these late autumn afternoons in the prison. In the midst of her weeping, she heard those familiar, cautious footsteps make their way to the side of her bed.

"Hi Norma," Brook greeted politely, raising her head from the pillow and forcing a smile at the sweet lady who welcomed herself into the room. Norma smiled quietly, sitting at the base of the bed, her hand extending out, inviting Brook to take it. She did, hugging it close to her chest. Touch. Just touching another human being, even in a platonic context… felt so foreign now that Poussey wasn't here anymore. Norma was the silent beauty of Litchfield… never spoke, never struck up a conversation with another benefit, never bothered to. No one really asked why… that was just the way she was. Norma's fingers stroked through Brook's brunette locks very gently, very carefully. Brook was so fragile at this point… like a snowflake that would break in half or melt in her hands if she handled it too inconsiderately. She just needed time to heal… to find herself again.

Norma took both of Brook's hands, and slowly brought her up into an upright position. She wrapped both her arms around her, allowing Brook to sob uncontrollably into her chest. She had to. She was supposed to.

"I just miss her so much…" Brook started hesitantly. "I loved her… I was in love with her. I told her that I loved her. And she said it back… she said it b-"

Norma hugged Brook tight, shushing her every now and then whenever her cries became too loud, cautious that a CO would hear them and take her away. She was unstable right now… the worst thing that could possibly happen is having her taken away and placed into psych. That was the opposite of what she wanted at this point.

"Soso?"

Brook immediately broke free from Norma's grasp at the sudden voice. Taystee was standing in the doorway of her cubicle, a look of concern plastered over her face.

"Still crying?" Taystee asked, stepping into the corner, watching Brook bury herself back into Norma when she realized it wasn't a CO.

"Can you please go right now, please," Brook said. "I just want to be alone."

"You going to miss the 4 PM dinner if you don't get yo ass out of bed and get down to the cafeteria right now," Taystee asserted, crossing her arms and standing her ground.

"Do I have to…" Brook groaned, as Norma hugged her tighter. She was weak right now, and so hurt. She was a delicate flower that needed to be piece back together and nurtured until she was fully grown again. But she needed to eat. She hadn't touched a plate of food ever since… the incident. If she didn't get something in her system, she could pass out, or even worse. Norma gently pushed Soso to her feet, guiding her by supporting her back and holding her hands.

"I guess I have no choice," Brook sniffled. She met Taystee's eye. Taystee was done with grieving for now… she had cried and sobbed for hours on end. But losing people was a big theme in Taystee's life - she felt almost numb to it at this point in time. Seeing someone like Soso who has never experienced this before was very foreign to her.

"They waitin' fo you," Taystee said. "I made sure that Cindy saved you a seat." Brook

met Taystee's eyes, about to thank her before she realized how painful actually saying it would be. Taystee loved Poussey. Maybe in a different way than Brook, but she loved her. They were the greatest of friends, soulmates, even. Their personalities just meshed so perfectly together that it seemed like it came out of a storybook. Brook thought fondly of the memories she and Poussey shared during their short time together at Litchfield.

Like when they swam together in the lake… the water expanding their inmate uniforms so they looked like balloons, and how they just held each other's hands and floated peacefully at the top, looking up into the sky and feeling so free and so right and so perfect, and that nothing could make that moment anything less than it was. Until the COs had to usher them back in, of course, when they found out they broke free through the fence.

Or when they would sneak between the shelves of the library, and when Brook felt so much pressure to pleasure her… even though she didn't want to. And when Poussey said that it was okay, that she would be ready when Brook was ready. And how she never felt that before… having another human being care for when she was and wasn't completely comfortable with something and respecting her decision with both courtesy and respect.

Brook giggled at the final memory… when she and Poussey snuck into the bathroom during lights out with a towel, laying it onto the floor of one of the shower cubicles… and how good it felt when she went down on her. Damn, it was actually really fucking good. She knew what she was doing to her down there… that was no surprise at all… since she's done it before. Brook on the other hand… has never. Brook always knew she was never purely attracted to men. She was actually attracted to people - she didn't really care for gender as long as they could understand each other in conversation, be there for one another, really truly deeply love one another. Just like Poussey did for her. She never knew how to please Poussey, she doesn't recall a time when she has actually made Poussey orgasm. That was one of her biggest regrets, not pleasing the girl of her dreams just because she didn't have enough experience. She was never able to have a real relationship with a woman before Poussey waltzed into her life and swept her off her feet. Those blissful moments she shared with her, whether it was doing those naughty little things in the shower while everyone else was sleeping, or reading a semi-interesting book in Litchfield's sparse library, or sitting next to each other in the cafeteria… those were the memories Brook would cherish forever and tuck into the back of her heart. She obviously wouldn't dwell on them day after day, but she would like to think that she would pull them out of her thoughts every now and then and relish in how perfect and content and peaceful they made her feel, only to come back to the bitter, mundane drone of reality once more.

"Soso, you gonna sit?" Taystee's voice interrupted her train of thought.

"Oh… um, yeah," Brook replied, snapping back to the current moment, sinking reluctantly into the chair that Taystee pulled out for her adjacent to the dining table. Crazy Eyes made sure to get her a tray of the cold cafeteria food, which Brook muttered a whispery "thanks" to.

"Man, I can't believe she's actually gone," Cindy sighed, scratching her head while forking through the unappetizing-looking meatloaf. "It's just so messed up."

Crazy Eyes ate in silence, careful not to see off Brook's alarm. Cindy seemed to be completely unaware of the sensitivity of the situation, drabbling on and on about how Poussey was such a good friend to her and that it was that stupid CO's fault, and how his name sounded like a cartoon character.

Brook gripped the fork tighter and tighter as Cindy kept on talking like life was just supposed to carry on like normal. As if Poussey's death was some trashy story in the gossip column of a magazine for housewives with nothing better to do with their lives. Cindy shoved another piece of fruit into her mouth while continuing about some memories she shared with Poussey. It was so easy for her. It seemed like she was already through the grieving process, like she could move on with her life and do normal, regular people things like eat food, and speak about others. It made Brook so jealous… and so livid.

"SHUT UP!" she screamed, abruptly standing up from her seat. She made Taystee jump, and Crazy Eyes look up at her in fear.

"What is your damn issue, Soso?" Cindy responded, sighing and shaking her head, still picking at her food. "If she's gone, she's gone. You can't do nothing about it when it's in the past."

"Will you stop talking about it like it's no big deal?!" Brook shouted. "Poussey was a person. She was a human being. She was my girlfriend. She was more than a victim of a terrible, terrible accident. Her father was a military sergeant in Germany. She loved New York City. She wanted to live there someday. She loved telling stories. She laughed, and smiled, and she was going…" The doe-eyed inmate trailed off, eyes falling onto the floor once she realized what she had done. "She was going to have a life with me," she finished. She was attracting a fair amount of attention in the dining commons by now.

Brook's voice hardened when Cindy raised an eyebrow, obviously trying to provoke her. She took the bait. "She's not the topic of your gossip, Cindy. I won't let that be her legacy."

"Soso… just sit down," Taystee pleaded. Brook looked around. Everyone was staring at her. Piper was whispering to the girl sitting next to her, like she always did. Spreading around rumors, manipulating people so that she could get the upper hand. The bitch. Red folded her arms across her chest, standing her ground stoically and holding Brook's gaze from behind the serving counter. She obviously wanted her to shut up and sit down and finish her food.

Brook slid back into her position, picking up the spoon that she left untouched on the side of her tray. She looked down at the slimy pasta salad that sat nonchalantly before her, and forced herself to eat. She clearly had no appetite. She was in no mood to live, to breathe normally. She just wanted to bury herself underneath the blankets and reminisce about the girl she gave everything to. Conversation continued once everyone settled down and averted their attentions and gazes from the sulking, heartbroken mess that was Brook. She couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't take the normalcy.

She couldn't accept the fact that the world still turned even when she was gone.

Brook bolted out of her seat, leaving her tray of half-eaten food lying on the table. She ran, ran past the disapproving COs, past the cold, off-white walls, through the doors of the residential areas, and back into her cubicle. She threw her quilt over her head, hugging the pillow close to her once more. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. She missed everything about her. Her beautiful, kind, sweet face. Her stories. She just couldn't get enough of her stories. She wanted to know more about her. There were probably tens of hundreds of stories she still hadn't told her… and will never be able to. Brook bit her lip, trying to suppress her sobs. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how she could move on, how she could carry on, how she could live after Poussey wasn't there to live through things with her anymore. That night, she cried herself to sleep. The COs didn't bother waking her up and sending her back to the cafeteria. It was too much effort, and they didn't want to deal with the stubborn nature of a grieving girl. Brook dreamt of her in her sleep.

It was several years down the line… actually, probably a little bit more than several years. Poussey was still alive. The entire incident never happened. It was all just a big misunderstanding. She was actually sent to the hospital and she was cured and now everything is okay. Poussey was wearing a jean jacket and leggings, big hoop earrings. She had maroon lipstick on. Brook thought she looked sexy with lipstick on. They finally saved up enough money to rent a studio in New York City. They were finally starting their life together after their time in Litchfield.

Poussey never spoke in this dream. She would only laugh a lot, maybe move her lips and speak indistinctly… but Brook didn't care. As long as she was talking, as long as she was happy, as long as she was alive. She just didn't care. If they were together, she was content. She just wanted what was best for Poussey.

They would unpack the little amount of belongings they had and attempt to arrange them into organized piles around the apartment but subsequently fail to. They would give up, pour themselves glasses of champagne, make a toast to a new beginning, get really drunk, and make playful, passionate, hot love on the floor or on the couch. Brook didn't care. As long as they were together. As long as she was alive.

They would walk the streets of Manhattan, holding hands. Take the subway, and have long, deep passionate kisses. Maybe even throw some tongue in there if she was feeling adventurous that day. They would go to a deli, maybe buy some ham and cheese and bread and grapes and… white wine and a bunch of shit that they probably couldn't even afford if this wasn't a dream, and sit in the middle of Central Park, drinking, eating, maybe pulling down one another's pants and eating a little bit more. They would walk to a bar, and get so drunk that they couldn't even remember what they did the night before. Pass out, take the metro home, make love. Cuddle. And then Poussey could tell her more stories.

They could even go rooftopping - Poussey always talked about how much she wanted to do that. How it was one of the most desirable things that she wanted to cross off on her bucket list. She had a long bucket list. They would go, eventually. And Brook would see the New York City skyline, with Poussey leaned over a railing on top of a skyscraper, watching it just as intently as she was. She would smell the clean, fresh midnight air. She could almost feel the wind of the outside blowing across her face and through her hair. Poussey would then turn around, approach her, and kiss her some more. She would kiss her back. Brook could feel her warm, soft lips. And then she would wake up, back in the musty dampness of Litchfield.

It was a sweet, sweet dream. Tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes again, and before she knew it, she was bawling. It was still the middle of the night, and the inmates of Litchfield were fast asleep as Brook tried to contain herself. She couldn't make anymore noise, she wouldn't allow herself to. She had caused enough trouble in the cafeteria the evening before. She suddenly felt very nauseous, like she needed to throw up. Sprinting from the bed, she made her way through the doors and into the nearest bathroom commons. Flinging open a stall, she gripped both sides of the toilet bowl and retched violently. The grief was taking a toll on her health… but she couldn't help it. It was so hard to live without her. Brook couldn't see the point in living if Poussey wasn't standing by her side.

"Soso?" a raspy, familiar voice pierced the silence of the bathroom. Brook turned around, to see Nicky standing in the doorway.

"Nicky!" Brook exclaimed, rising to her feet, moving past her to wash herself in the sink.

"What are you doing up so early?" she curly-haired redhead asked. "I thought I heard something in the bathroom and came to see what was going on."

"Nothing," Brook lied. "Just go back to bed. I was just using the bathroom."

"Heh… didn't sound like that, tuts," Nicky smirked, eyeing Brook up and down.

"You really don't need to worry about me," Brook assured. "You have so much more on your plate already. I'd hate to bother you with my silly dead lesbian girlfriend issues."

"Okay well first off… they aren't silly," Nicky laughed, wrapping an arm around Brook.

Touch. She missed that. Genuine, friendly, affectionate touch. Aside from Norma, she hasn't had someone touch her like this in so long. She missed it.

"Do you think I'm… stupid?" Brook whispered reluctantly, leaning into Nicky's arms.

"No, of course I don't think you're stupid," Nicky responded. "You're just grieving. It's normal. Trust me, I've done enough of that before."

Brook burst into tears again. She was so sick of crying. She cried so much in the past few days that it didn't feel like crying anymore… it just felt like drops of water welled up and fell from her eyes. There was no emotion behind it. It was all mechanical. It was just clockwork at this point.

"Shhhh…" Nicky comforted, running her fingers through Brook's short, choppy hair. "It's okay. I'm here for you. You're going to get through this."

"I don't think I will," Brook sniffled. "I don't want to live anymore. I think I want to end this."

"Hey!" Nicky stopped, pushing Brook away so she could look into her eyes. "Don't spew that crazy talk. You are staying right here. Locked up in Litchfield with us for right now. You are going to serve your sentence, and then you are going to have a life outside of here. I promise you. There is a light at the end of this tunnel. I assure you that you are going to be okay."

Brook shook her head. "I just miss her." She clasped a hand over her mouth. "So much."

"Sh sh sh sh…." Nicky cooed again, bending her knees so that she and Brook lowered to the floor. They huddled underneath the sink, the moonlight pouring through the windows of the bathroom, bathing the room in a melancholic, whimsical hue.

"We don't wanna wake up the others," Nicky reminded, placing a finger to her lips, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "It's just you and me right now, okay? You are going to get through this."

Brook tilted her head, admiring Nicky's facial expression. Maybe it was the lighting, or how goddamn lonely Brook has been without Poussey. Or how sexy her lips looked when she smirked or smiled. Whatever it was, something drove Brook to kiss Nicky, just raise her head and give her a small peck. It caught Nicky off guard, completely.

"The fuck was that?" she asked, wiping her lip off in disgust. Brook was taken aback. She thought she enjoyed it.

"I-I'm sorry," Brook apologized sincerely. "I don't know where that came from…"

"Soso…" Nicky said. "We can't do this. It's not what Poussey would want."

"I know. I-I don't know, I have no idea why I did that, I-I'm such a terrible person, I-" Brook's thoughts were racing. Fuck shit fuck shit.

Nicky shushed Brook once more, pushing her head down gently so it rested in her lap.

"It's okay, it's okay," Nicky chuckled, rolling her eyes in endearment. "We can just pretend it didn't happen. We all do weird shit when we lose the people they love."

"Water on the bridge," Brook giggled. She couldn't stop laughing. The entire situation was just too funny for words. The pair just appreciated the ridiculousness of the scenario for a good minute or two before they could even bring themselves to speak in full sentences.

"We lose people, baby," Nicky comforted, her laugh gradually dying down. "People

come and people go. They are like buses, and we are like stations. They arrive, they stay for however long they want. And sometimes, they just leave. We don't know why. It could be because a friendship had a falling out. Or it could be because their time on this Earth is just up."

"It's still so unfair…" Brook continued, playing with fabric on Nicky's pajama pants

between her thumb and forefinger. "She was so young. She deserved more time."

"We never know how much time we have," Nicky said. "It could be 50 years. It could be 100." She swallowed a lump in her throat. "Or it could be 25."

Soso gripped the ball of fabric in her hand at Nicky's last statement. "It was too soon."

"I know that, baby," Nicky nodded. "We all do. You can take all the time you need in this place. You can grieve, you can cry." She paused. "Butcha gotta eat, okay? You are already skinny enough, I don't want you to start shedding bone marrow by the time you get through this whole fucking mess."

"I'm sorry," Brook giggled. Nicky always knew how to make her life. "I'll eat next time, I promise."

"That's what you say," Nicky rolled her eyes while chewing her lip.

"I will, I swear!" Brook assured, her voice taking on her usual playful tone for the first time in a while.

"Alright," Nicky capitulated cynically. "Whatever you say."

"Just watch me tomorrow," Brook replied. "I'll finish two trays of eggs."

"I double dog dare you."

"Challenge accepted."

Identical smirks were exchanged.

"I should go back to bed," Nicky said, standing up on her feet and pulling up her pants. "I think you should too."

"Brook nodded, still holding onto her hand. "Thank you for this."

"It's what I do," Nicky smiled in response. "You okay walking back yourself?"  
"Yeah…" Brook answered. "I think I'll be okay."

And with that, Nicky left the brunette to herself in the bathroom.

The following morning, Brook kept her promise.


End file.
